The Life of a Depressed Teenage Girl
by BeyondOurStars
Summary: Max was sixteen when her life was ruined. The worst thing that could've happened, happened; she was raped by her best friend's boyfriend, and was abandoned by said best friend. Now, constantly being harassed at school, Max falls into depression and finds desperate ways of coping. But when the small group of friends called the Flock come into her life, Max might be happy again.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. As you can see, I have deleted all of my old stories. I guess they became too much to handle and I really couldn't deal with it anymore. I just want one story without people constantly reviewing for me to update. It just stresses me even more.****I also was not very happy with them. I think I've improved my writing style a bit so this should be better.**

**Reviews are always welcome c:**

* * *

I slammed my cell phone shut, tiredly putting my face in my hands.

Lissa told me the exact details for her party; a guest list, type of balloons, even pink striped cake; and I seriously thought I had it covered. I guess not.

I just got off the phone with the florist. Apparently they didn't sell hot pink roses which just threw my whole plan off the chart. I pulled out my Macbook and googled a place that sold them.

And just my luck, the nearest florist was 2 hours away. Just my luck.

At the same time, I went through a dress magazine, searching for the perfect dress for me to wear to the party. Not pretty enough to outshine Lissa, but pretty enough to be seen with her as her best friend.

As I circled another dress that might work, my phone did its little beepy thing it did whenever I got a text message. I put down my Sharpie and grabbed my phone, flipping it open and opening the message. Of course, from Lissa.

_u got a dress yet?_

I rolled my eyes. _no, you just tld me abt ur party a week ago._ Send.

_well get one soon so we can try them on 2gether!_

I shut my old Motorola phone, not replying to her text. I have a bit much going on for this.

Three phone calls and 4 hours later, I have almost everything planned out except for the flowers. I tried calling the place to arrange the flowers but there was no answer. Which means I have to drive there. The whole four hours.

That was something to save for later.

I sluggishly gathered up all of my crap, looking at the time. 4:45 A.M. No point in sleeping now.

I started the coffee maker and put some Poptarts on a paper plate, covering my mouth while I let out a huge yawn. Why can't Lissa just plan her own stupid party?

But the thing was, it wasn't stupid. It was Lissa turning 15. So of course it was a huge deal. Especially for the most popular girl in school. And the second most popular always had to plan the actual party. And the second most was always Lissa's best friend.

So yeah, me.

I have to admit, Lissa and I have a rocky friendship. It always sucks that she has more money than me and more friends and boys that literally throw themselves at her. Me? I'm just there as her best friend. I have friends through Lissa; every guy I've ever dated was set up by Lissa. Lissa, Lissa, Lissa. The name is practically branded into my mind.

I bite into my poptart. What will I wear today? Definitely not the napkins Lissa wears. Maybe jeans and a fitted shirt? Or shorts and that pink thing mom got me? And don't even get me started on hair and makeup.

After finishing my breakfast, I rush upstairs and open my closet doors. About five minutes later, I have about three outfits lying on my bed and some music playing. This is the start of my morning.

I settle on a pair of white skinny jeans with a light blue blouse. Putting it on one hanger, I hook it onto my doorknob and grab a towel. Shower time.

After my short shower, I wrap my towel around me and grab another one for my hair. For about thirty minutes, I'm standing in front of my mirror blow drying and straightening my hair. I put on my outfit and grab my makeup bag.

I stare down at the torture devices. I hate makeup. With everything I have, I hate it. But to be Lissa's friend, you have to look pretty. Which required makeup.

I grab some powder foundation, swiping it all over my face with a fluffy brush. Then I apply a dab of pink eyeshadow to the corners to my eyes, swipe on some liquid eyeliner, and fill in my eyebrows. Satisfied with my look, I grab some blue Vans and my bag and head downstairs.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear a small buzz from the kitchen. Crap. My phone.

I run to the kitchen, hitting the answer button just in time. It's Lissa.

I missed a call from her once. I don't plan on doing it again.

"Hey Maxie!" she squeaked. I flinched from the high frequency of her voice.

"Hey, Liss," I say, grabbing my maths book off of the table and putting it in my bag. "Meet me outside my house?"

"Already there!" she says. I furrow my eyebrows confused, until I hear a tap at the window. Lissa, in all of her red-haired glory, was smiling back at me. I rolled my eyes, smiling.

When I walked out of the front door, I was immediately attacked-or hugged, whichever one you prefer- by Lissa. Hard.

She may look tiny, but that chick has a death grip.

Gasping for breath, I unhook her hands from around my neck and raise my eyebrows. "Why are you so happy to see me?"

"I"m just happy!" she replies. We step down the red brick steps to my house and onto the sidewalk. "And you know why?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Giving me no time to answer, she screeches, "Dylan asked me out yesterday!"

"Weren't you just dating Adam?"

"No, silly. I broke up with him yesterday!"

"And you're dating already?"

"Duh!" she says, looking at me like I'm an ape. "Of course I am!"

Of course she was. Lissa was a bit of a slut. I mean, her personality was awesome (if you were her friend), but she had a bit of an obsession with boys. And hardly wore any clothes. Changing the subject, I say, "Nice skirt. Is it new?"

It wasn't really much of a skirt. Just a piece of glittery napkin that just went past her butt.

"Yeah! I went shopping last weekend with Tess while you were at your dad's. It's cute right?!"

We spent the rest of the walk to school talking about Lissa's outfit and her time with Tess, and badmouthing Tess. I mean I like the girl, but I'd rather not disagree with Liss right now.

When we get to the school, Dylan comes up to Lissa and clicks his tongue. "I'll see you tonight," he says, passing us and going over to his friends. Lissa blushes, blowing him a kiss.

I shudder. They just started dating. I mean gosh, what was this? Some Disney channel show?

Pushing through the front doors of the school, Liss and I are hooked arm-to-arm as we walk down the middle of the hallway. Like every day, we stop at Lissa's locker first as the checks her makeup in her mirror and gets her books. Then we go to mine so I can do the same thing. It's a process.

Liss and I had no classes together except for maths, which was at the end of the day. When I was walking off to Spanish, she slapped my butt and pushed me forward playfully, calling me a dork. Turning around and walking backwards, I retorted "Loser!" We both turned away from each other smiling.

In the middle of second period, English, I felt a warmness... _down there._

Crap. My period.

I hate this. It always come early, never regular. And I'm wearing whit jeans. And I have to tampons.

_Crap._

I raise my hand and am excused to the ladies' room. I stand in the stall, thinking of my options when a girl walks into the washroom. I exit my stall, seeing a girl with mocha skin and huge eyes.

"Sorry to bother you, but do you have any tampons I can use?" I ask.

This should be awkward, but all of the girls here know that when a girl needs some lady products, a girl needs lady products. "Sure!" she say, digging into the huge bag on her shoulder.

"Thank you so much," I say, walking into the stall. When I'm done, the girl is gone. I look in the mirror for stains, and, finding none, I exit the bathroom.

* * *

_One week later._

Standing in front of Lissa's full body mirror, I smooth my dress and fix my hair. The dress is a lacy blue thing that stops above my knees with transparent lacy trail. Lissa had one in the same style, but it was lime green with a jeweled belt, and not lace. Her shoes and accessories were all gold, while mine were all silver.

Today was Liss's birthday, and people were already downstairs of the house. Lissa stood next to me, dabbing some eyeliner onto her waterline. "Should I do the brown eyeshadow or the gold?"

"Gold," I reply, applying some clear lipgloss.

She looks at me disapprovingly. "Maxie, this is my birthday. Get some red onto those lips!" she says, passing me a tube of lipstick. I frown at it, popping off the cap and staring at the bright color. "But you know I hate color on my lips."

"But it's my birthday," she says. That was the final word. Sighing, I rolled up the tube and swiped it on my lips. When I was done, I stared in the mirror disapprovingly as Lissa squeals and says it's 'just my color.' I look at her. "It makes my face look bloated," I say, crossing my arms.

She trills, shaking her head. "Maxie, you always look like that! In fact, I think the lipstick makes you look skinnier."

Ouch. "Okay, whatever. Lets go down."

Hooking arms, we descend down her huge mansion staircase, into a huge clump of partially drunk but well dressed teenagers. Amanda, a bubbly blonde girl who seemed a bit tipsy, skipped up to us and pulled Lissa into a huge hug, saying happy birthday about a million times before Lissa dismissed her. When she was gone, Liss shuddered. "God, was she a lezbo or something?"

I furrow my brows, looking up at my friend. "I don't think so, just drunk. Why is being les a bad thing?" I ask as we go to sit on the couch with Lissa's other friends.

"Because, silly, it's gross," she says, plopping down next to Dylan and immediately shoving her tongue down his esophagus. I sit next to her, flinching whenever she moans. Gross.

Pretty soon, we've all had quite a few drinks and someone brought a pack of cigarettes and some pot. I grabbed a cigarette, stealing a lighter and putting it in my mouth. When it was ignited, I take a long drag and blow out the smoke.

I get a little bored of Lissa and Dylan's making out, so I get up and wander about, my cigarette still in my hand. I end up sitting on the steps, surrounded by freshmans in sparkly shirts and too much makeup. After awhile, someone came and sat next to me. Dylan. "What do you want?" I ask him, looking at him through the corner of my eye.

"Lissa said I could borrow a few bucks for booze," he said, glancing at me. "But I don't know where she keeps her money. So you have to show me."

I sigh and roll out my cigarette on the banister. "Well c'mon," I say, starting up the stairs. I start to walk into Liss's room, but Dylan was probably too drunk to follow me correctly and walked into the guest room. I sighed, rolling my eyes and setting across the hall. "Dylan, that is not her room," I say walking through the doorway.

I look around the dark room for Dylan. Then the door closed.

I whipped around, looking for Dylan. "Cut it out, Dylan," I say, walking towards the light switch. Before I can get there, a sweaty hand is clamped on my mouth and I'm pushed onto the bed.

His breath smelled like beer and smoke. It only lasted about five minutes.

But that was the night I was raped by Dylan.

When he was done, he was still playing with me. I couldn't scream; his hand was on my mouth the whole time. Suddenly, the door burst open, with Lissa standing in the doorframe. Dylan shot up off of me, and I grabbed my dress covering myself. I got up, tears streaming from my eyes, stumbling for Lissa. Before a word could come out of my mouth, Lissa slapped me.

The sound echoed across the hall, and I fell to the ground. I held my cheek, looking up at her.

"Slut." She spat the word out then whirled and left the hall. Dylan rushed after her.

That was the night I lost my best friend.

I quickly pulled on my dress, grabbing my shoes. I was still crying. I ran into Lissa's room, grabbing all of my stuff and ended up climbing out of her window to get home. I don't think I would've been able to bear facing everyone.

When I got home, I was relieved to see that my mom was still at work and my sister was at a friend's house. I rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind me and deadlocking the door. My back pressed against it, I slid down the door, huddling into a ball. Oh my god. I was just raped. My innocence was taken from me. Ever since I was ten, I had planned on remaining a virgin until I was engaged. But now I'm not a virgin, and I'm not even seventeen.

Oh my god.

I ran up to my room, jumping into the shower and scrubbing every part of me with a whole bottle of soap. I stood there for about twenty minutes, crying. It hurt so bad.

I pulled on my comfiest pajamas, and curled up in a ball under my covers. My phone kept beeping. I knew it was Lissa and her friends harassing me. I knew from the first ten.

It took awhile, but I eventually fell asleep, just to wake up to hell.

* * *

**So you can tell that this story is going to be a little dark. And since I plan on making the chapters a bit longer than usual, it may take awhile for my next post. No wings, just to clarify. And yes, Fang and the rest of the flock will come soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again. **

**Thank you guys so much for all of the positive feedback on this story. It really means alot to know that I'm doing a good job. I love getting alerts and reviews.**

**This story is going to have the following triggers: Self Harm, Eating Disorders, Depression, Anxiety, Rape, and Abuse. If any of this triggers anything, please don't read. I hate being triggered by things, I know how it feels. I don't want anything to happen.**

**This is a Fax story.**

**No wings.**

**Okay. On with the story.**

**Reviews are always welcome c;**

* * *

I got out of my bed, to feel a pang of soreness from below my abdomen. I sucked in a scream, clutching myself. I fell onto the floor, and squeezed a tear out of my eye. God this hurts so bad.

I slowly and carefully stand up, slowly putting one foot in front of the other to get to my bathroom. Even walking hurts. I lean over my sink, looking at myself in my old mirror.

My eyes are probably the worst thing. The dark circles underneath my eyes are amazingly prominent, and there were tiny bruises around my mouth where Dylan's hand was.

I lurched over the sink, the memories flooding my mind.

Me screaming, Dylan laughing. The look of resentment and hate and pride on his face.

Me crying.

Lissa slapping me.

I look at the cheek she hit, running my hands on the angry red mark. It burned to touch.

It was a Saturday, which meant in about an hour I had to go to work. I worked at Starbucks, and a group of Lissa's friends always came during my shift for their coffees.

Dylan was in that group.

I shakily undresses. I gasped at my lower regions.

They were red, and covered in bruises. Hand marks on my hips. Finger tip bruises just all over. I covered my mouth, stifling a sob. What I saw, it did something. I crumpled to the ground, naked, and bawled my eyes out. I shuddered, letting out gut-wrenching sobs, tearing themselves out of my mouth.

For about twenty minute, I lied there, crying. The tile of my bathroom floor was cool against my naked body. It made the bruises feel better.

When I finally stood up, I turned on my shower and did the usual morning stuff. I washed myself. I brushed my teeth, and blow dried my hair. I got into my work clothes, and dab on some mascara.

Glopping some concealer onto my fingers, I dab the makeup all over my face; covering the marks and bruises. The makeup smells terrible and feels terrible, but it matches my skintone perfectly, thanks to Lissa.

When I got to work, I went to my station and prepared the mixtures and tools. When it was finally opening time, about five women came in, all dressed in work clothes. The usual morning run.

For the next two hours, I made coffee for men and women who were all tired and heading to work. You encounter a few people; lawyers, nurses, real estate agents. They're all boring as bricks, though.

Working made me feel normal again; it was always the same, and no soreness in between my legs could change that. Throughout the day, I was blending, mixing, and taking orders from all of my customers.

But then it all turned _really_ bad.

I was stacking some muffins into the display case when the little bell on the door jingled, alerting me to get to the counter. I stood up and turned around to face my customer.

Of course when I did that, I wasn't exactly expecting to be shoved back by to overly-tanned hands.

When I was pushed, I was pushed really _hard. _I practically flew back, busting my shoulder on one of the counters. Wincing, I stood up, meeting my attacker's eye.

Of course it was Lissa.

"Well? Aren't you going to take my order?" she asked, her voice dripping with bitter resentment.

I stood up. "What do you want, Lissa?"

"Well, I'll take a caram-"

"No, Lissa, I am not taking your order. I mean, what. Do. You. Want."

She tilts her head to the side, a small smirk on her face. "Oh, yeah! Now I know why I came here!"

In a flash, she's behind the counter and directly in front of me. I hear one word before she punches me in the abdomen.

_"Bitch."_

I scream, way louder than I usually would have. I mean, Lissa doesn't even punch that well. She lacks in tactic. But she punched me right in the abdomen. Right where I already had bruises and marks from the previous night.

All of my co-workers were on their lunch breaks, and this time of day was never all that busy. We were the only two left in the cafe.

I fell to the ground, clutching my stomach and curling into a ball. _God_ that hurt. Lissa knelt down, a bitchy smile on her face. She grabs at the extra skin of my stomach and pinches it, hard. "I guess that couldn't have hurt _too_ bad, Maxie," she said, looking at me right in the eye. "There's too much fat down there for you to feel it."

She stood up, and with a flick of her red hair, she was out of the cafe. Shakily, I sat up, clutching at my stomach.

Fat. Wow. Out of all of the things, I don't think I've ever been called fat. I look down at my still-exposed stomach, and clutch at the loose skin. I've never really thought of myself as fat. I mean, Lissa didn't really mean it. She was just trying to wound me.

I stood up, grabbing a pencil and paper to write a note to my coworkers, making up an excuse about being sick and having to go home. I wouldn't be able to handle it if Dylan came in.

My mom looks up when I come home. "Max?"

Ignoring her, I walk up the stairs to my room and lock my door.

I go into my bathroom, closing and locking the door. In seconds, my shirt and pants are off and I'm left in my underclothes. I clutch at my bare stomach, turning to the side. I am able to pinch enough extra skin off of stomach to fill up my whole palm.

I tilt my head to the side, furrowing my eyebrows. How did I never notice that before?

My hands leave my stomach and go down to my thighs.

I stand up straight. I mean, I don't really know how thighs can be considered not fat. They're practically made of muscle and skin. I place my hands on my hips. What is the definition of not-fat thighs? I stop, thinking for a moment. I think I once heard some girls in the bathroom talking about a gap. I decide that that is what I look for, and gaze at my sadly un-gappy thighs. I sigh, leaning against the wall.

God, why is my self esteem so fucking low? I mean, I had never had a second thought about my weight before Lissa called me fat. I exhaled, putting my head in my hands. Gah. I actually cared about what Lissa thought of me. Even after her boyfriend fucking shoved his dick into me without my fucking consent.

I stood tall, suddenly furious. I grabbed my phone, dialing the number I have always been told to call if someone touches me.

It dials once, and I hear the voice on the other line.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

I take a deep breath, looking in the mirror.

"I'd like to report a rape."

* * *

**haha, this makes it seem like this story is gonna end. Whaaale it's not. Not even close. I plan on this being like a billion chappies so. Sorry for the language.  
**

**So, the VMA's just came on and seriously all of this 'Taywhore' shit is pissing me off. She was fucking jokind .-.**

**What's your thoughts on Tay Tay?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Haii c:**

**I loved opening up my email to all of those awesome followers and reviews and favorites. Thank you guys so much 4**

**So, one review asked a question about when Fang comes in. Well... soooon c;**

**I AM going to warn you that there will be intense situations and cussing that may be triggering. I'm not going to switch to M since it doesn't involve anything too graphic. No sex or anything. (Sorry to my horny friends out there xD)**

**So on with the story c:**

* * *

Max POV.

It's been a week since I had called the police.

Basically, I told the operator the basics and they had me come down to the station with my parent and/or guardian. Dad is out of town for business, so I had to take mom. Which of course meant that I had to tell her what happened.

I sat her down, and told her that I had something really important to tell her. I then proceeded to confide in her what happened at Lissa's party and at work that day. In the end, we were both sobbing and holding each other tightly. Soon after she called dad, we headed to the station even though it was late.

I then I had relive my story for the second time that night, and it sucked ass. My mother and I basically took turns sobbing and hiccuping; luckily the officers were very understanding and compassionate. When it came to giving out Dylan's information, I hesitated. I was very reluctant, and I swore that a million thought came rushing into my head all at once:

_What will happen?_

_Will it just make things even worse?_

_Fuck._

_What if they don't find him guilty?_

_What if word spreads that I snitched? _

As all of those thoughts circulated in my head, I told Officer Shaye his address and phone number. After the meeting with the officers, mom called dad and told him what was going on as I went to my room for sleep.

It's now a week later, and things have gotten much, much worse.

I am currently walking down my schools' hallway, a stack of textbooks in my hands. I dodge some kids and teachers, stepping over legs and dropped items. I idle closer to the wall, trying to be small and not be seen.

It doesn't work.

As I inch my way pass Lissa's locker, where she is standing with two other girls (Tess and Jennifer), she turns from her conversation and glances at me, twisting her red hair on her index finger. She smacks her gum, walking towards me.

"Hey, Maxie," she says, knocking some books out of my hands. "Woops," she giggles, knocking some more out of my embrace. I shrink against the wall as Lissa leans in, her breath smelling of mint and bubble gum.

"Okay, slut. I think I'm going to let you go to class." She taps my nose playfully. "Try not to sleep with anyone's boyfriends." Before she turns back, she knees me in the gut. In the back of my mind I wonder why the hell she would do that in such a short skirt. As she's walking away, she says in a sarcastic voice: "It's not like it would be much of a secret if you did, Maximum. You'd snitch it for rape."

* * *

I guess that establishes how everyone else treats me; they taunt me, beat me up sometimes. They'll knock over my things and once a boy put gum in my hair. Everyone was under Lissa's rule, and I was the enemy. I was the one to be downsized into nothing more than a punching bag.

Some people didn't bully, but just stayed out of it completely. My knees were being knocked out while I was walking, a few days ago, and although some of those people gave worried looks, they kept walking like nothing was happening.

I mean, I honestly don't blame them. If they helped me, Lissa would destroy them. Not to mention I was a complete bitch when I was Lissa's friend.

When the bell rings signifying lunch, I quickly gather my things and rush out of the room. Now, I usually eat in the library. It's always quiet, and nobody expects me to be in there. They all think I'm stupid. Actually, I love reading. But in eighth grade Lissa saw me reading Harry Potter and practically burned it with her cigarette. I still remember what she said: _"Knowledge is a stupid thing, Max. It can cost you your reputation if you act like a nerd."_

I never got to finish that series.

When school is finally over, I walk home, kicking several pebbles in front of me. I look up at the cloudless blue sky, squinting at the sun. Dad used to tell me storied of how the Sun was a symbol of many different things in my different cultures and religions. But now I know better; it's all just a huge ball of fire and gas, waiting to burn out.

It seems like that in reality; You see a person, and they look like they're so happy. Alive. They look radiant as the sun, perhaps. But we all have a small fire inside of us, dwindling into nothingness as we slowly die. Every breath we take is a breath closer to your last one.

I always think about that; I think of what it would be like, how frightening it would be. To take that last inhale of oxygen; that last exhale of carbon dioxide. That soon, this generation will be dead in gone in 80 years. We all die one day, but we are ignorant to the point of where we think we are immortal.

I sigh, kicking the rock.

* * *

"Today, class," Miss Monroe says, sitting on top of her wooden desk, "we have a new student. He should be here soon, but I just wanted to let all of you know," she says, kicking her feet. "So, I got basic details about him, just important stuff I thought you guys should know when he comes in. First, his name is Fang." There are several bursts of laughter before she continues. "Yeah, yeah. Just go with it. Second, he's from Seattle so he came a long way. Be nice," she adds, looking at Lissa. Lissa snorts, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

I sigh, looking back down at my book. Great. A new student, possibly a new soldier in Lissa's army. Just one more person to knock me down in the halls. Or just another to not care about it at all.

When the door opens up, everyone looks up in anticipation. But not me. I slump in my chair, sticking my headphones in and pulling up my hood. The less noticeable, the better.

Behind my music, I can hear some talking. I take put my earphones, listening in. I hope he doesn't sit close to me.

Without realizing it, I look up at the new student.

Hot damn.

He is very attractive; black swooping hair, dark eyes, olive skin. He was wearing a plain black shirt and jeans, and a set of dogtags around his neck.

"You must be Fang. I'm Miss Monroe," my teacher says, and gestures to the seats. "Take a seat wherever."

I silently hope he doesn't take a seat next to me; all of the three seats surrounding me are empty, due to the current situation of my social life. I sigh in defeat when he takes the seat right next to me.

As Monroe teaches the class, I doodle on my paper, drawing a Tim-Burton style woman. Her face is thin and pointed, her nose long and elevated, her eyes wide and heavily lashed. She was Frankinstein-like marks on her face, serving as holding it together.

The new boy flicks his eyes over to me occasionally. I wonder why. Maybe I'm scratching my pencil too loudly; I immediately stop drawing and start pretending to read the textbook.

Throughout the class, his eyes keep flickering to me. During a free time, I catch him in the act. "Why are you looking at me?" I ask quietly, furrowing my eyebrows.

He looks at me for awhile considering. Then he points to a spot on my arm. "There is a rather large bruise on your arm and I was curious."

I look at my arm, puzzled. That bruise is from Mark, who had grabbed my wrist and twisted just the other day. I blush, pulling down my sleeve. "It's nothing," I say, putting on my music, drowning out the world.

* * *

**Haha... Filler I guess. But hey, at least Fangie came in. Didn't want to keep anyone waiting c:**

**Question of the Day:**

**Your view on body modification?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wasssupp c:**

**So one review caught my attention. It said that I should make Max stronger, more fierce in the situation she is. So here is my logic for making her weak: In the books, all of her hardship and her painful childhood made her as strong as she was. In my story, you can tell with the small background that I have given that she is just an average teenage girl with not much hardship in her life. If I had decided to give her a harder childhood, I would have made her more strong in this situation. But unfortunately that would mess up this whole story line and I would have to restart the whole thing. No thanks c:  
**

**Once again, thank you guys so much for all of your reviews, follows, and favorites. It means so much to me that everyone likes my story c:**

**Now, on with the show.**

* * *

**Max POV.**

The next few weeks were no different. Dylan's trial had passed and he was spending 2 years in jail; Lissa was being as much as a bitch as ever; and Fang was always there, too, just lingering.

Of course he would be around, considering he is in almost every class that I'm in. Not to mention that he became friends with the boy that lived next door, James, I think.

I was presently in my room, scrolling through my Facebook account. I liked a few posts, smiling at a picture of my great aunt. My smile soon dropped when I saw one of Lissa's posts:

_Can't believe that cunt had Dylan thrown into jail. I miss him so much._

Below this, there were at least ten sympathy comments from her friends, more than half of them calling me various amounts of colorful words. I shuddered, shutting off my computer.

I went outside, sitting in the middle of my yard. The sun was just setting; the birds were quieting their songs for the night. The green grass that dad had worked so hard nourishing was soft on my skin, and there was a warm breeze.

I looked at a bruise on my shin from when Frank Moore kicked me earlier. I run a finger over another on my neck. I seemed to have bruises and scratches all over, reminders of the people that despised me.

Before I could help it, I was crying. By now night had fallen, and the stars were shining brightly, encircling the crescent moon. I sobbed, with the moon's light casting a white glow on my skin.

I rolled over onto my stomach, letting tears stream down my face as I tied together some grass. Usually, I don't let myself cry. I learned that crying gets you nowhere in life; but tonight it seems otherwise. Since I have started tearing up, my shoulders have relaxed some. It takes out your energy, crying.

I roll over onto my back, looking at the night sky. I imagine a world beyond this one; a world that exists beyond the stars.

Some people would call it Heaven, I guess. I'm nowhere near religious, but it would be nice to be able to believe in a place after death. A reassurance that you wouldn't just end; that you would somehow live on to do great things after death.

I exhaled through my mouth, ignoring the taste of salty tears on my tongue.

After about an hour of laying on the ground, I shakily stand and drag myself to the door. When I'm inside, I see the clock. 11:00 P.M. Wow. I was out for a long time.

I go up to my room and lock my door. I quickly strip in front of my mirror, looking at my naked body. Bruises littered my skin; my arms, neck, torso, legs, everywhere. Even on my feet. I looked at every little scratch, every blue mark. I pulled at my hair and bit at my nails.

I haven't a clue why exactly I'm doing this; it was sort of an impulse thing to look at my wounds. No, I don't think I was scrutinizing myself; I was simply picking out where it hurt, what was in pain. The hair pulling and nail biting is simply a nasty habit.

I sit down on my bathroom floor, the tiles cool against my naked skin. There had to be a reason I came up just to look at myself; I couldn't have just wanted to look at myself. I wasn't like Lissa.

I sighed and pulled on my robe.

* * *

I walked through the school halls, dodging legs that were stuck out to trip me. I weaved through the corridor, avoiding anyone who could potentially hurt me.

I woke up this morning feeling particularly terrible; I had a headache, a cramp in my neck, and just a sour mood in general.

I walked to my first class, ignoring the sneers as usual. I take my usual seat next to Fang, keeping my head down. I don't pay attention all through roll, and hardly through the lesson. At the end of class, the teacher makes an announcement.

"Tomorrow, we are starting a major project that will be roughly 30 percent of your grade. You, and whoever I assign to you, will work in a group until after New Year's working on this. I will pass out a rubric."

I internally groan and put my head on the table. I actually have to work with someone, when half of the student body hates my guts.

How amazing.

The teacher goes on about the project. "For this project, you will design your own fantasy world, and write a novel of it. The twist; it has to use you and your partner as the two main characters. This must have a plot, a setting, and a main idea; you must make a plot line, and a model for extra points. I'l pass out a guidelines sheet. But now, I'm going to read who will be paired with who."

I sigh, resting my chin on the palm of my hand as she reads names. Lissa was with a girl named Teresa. At least it wasn't with me.

I turn my attention when she says my name.

"Max, your partner is Fang," she says, continuing on with her list.

I straighten in my chair and shoot him a look. He glances back, a slight smirk dancing on his lips. Teacher-Lady keeps talking. "This will be an out of school project; you will be given no time to work on this is class. If you don't already know the person you are assigned to, exchange information so you can work on this. You have five minutes," she said, glancing at the clock.

Fang stands and shuffles over to my desk, squatting down with a pen and paper. He scribbles his number onto it, sliding it to me. "That's my phone number. Call so we can work on this thing."

I blink. He doesn't talk much, so it's surprising to hear him speak. "A man of many words, I see," I say, rolling my eyes. I take the number anyways, programming it into my phone. "Done," I say, showing him my phone screen as if he needs proof.

He nods and heads back to his seat, packing his things.

* * *

After school when I'm safely in my room, I take out my phone and call Fang. He picks up on the second ring.

"Yo."

"Hey. When can we get together for this thing?"

There's a pause before he replies. "Tomorrow?"

I click my tongue, considering. "Sure, where at?"

Another pause. "Julia's Coffee after school."

"Okay. See ya at school, I guess."

He grunts some kind of agreement and hangs up. I realize that I've made my first plans with someone since the thing with Lissa.

I sigh, rolling back on my bed and pulling the covers over myself. I didn't care that I had a ton of homework; all I wanted to do was sleep.

As I fell into my slumber, I dreamed of wings.

* * *

**Um... Kind of a filler, but kind of not. I dunno. I forgot what her first class was so for now it's English. Ok.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wassup homies.**

**Haha, my lame attempt of being gangster c; I changed my username. Like it?**

**And I changed the cover image. And my profile pic. And my cover.**

**Um.**

**Thanks for the reviews and favorites c: **

**Haha, random thought but I think it's funny. You see, I'm only in eighth grade so it's pretty stupid. But my ex tried getting into a fight with my guy friend. Haha. He's just a bluffer. I found it funny.**

**Okay okay. Story time. **

**Oh, and for now on I'm putting a trigger warning for dark themes. I don't want to be the cause of anybody's relapse.**

**Okay.**

* * *

Max POV

After school the next day, I start the 4-mile trek to the cafe that Fang and I are going to meet at. It's starting to get somewhat chilly since it's October, so I'm kind of shivery.

About ten minutes in, my ears prick at a sound behind me. I whip around and gasp; Fang was right behind me. _"Shit!_" I say, stumbling back in surprise. How long has he even _been _there?

His eyes widen and he steps back. "What did I do?" he asks, holding up his hands.

I press a hand to my chest. "Well, for one thing, you scared the piss out of me," I say, regaining my composure. I throw him a quizzical look. "How long have you been walking behind me?"

He considers. "Um. Since you left the school. I thought you knew I was there."

I roll my eyes. "Well, I didn't. Maybe you should actually speak to acknowledge your presence next time," I say, turning back around to continue walking.

I hear Fang make a sound -a snort- behind me. "Sure."

I roll my eyes, continuing to walk. Soon, Fang catches up to me and we're walking next to each other, our strides matching foot for foot. We were a kind of close that wouldn't look too close to someone just passing by, but I felt way to close. Even if it wasn't all that close. I could hear his breaths, see the small puffs that emitted from his mouth as he exhaled.

I simultaneously inched to the left, trying not to make my sudden distance all to obvious. Apparently Fang could see it; he smirked as I scooted away, although I'm pretty sure I saw the slightest hint of hurt flash across his features. It was so quick, I could have shrugged it off as a hallucination.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, staring at the sidewalk.

When we were about half a mile away, neither of us had said a word yet. Surprisingly, Fang was first to break the silence.

"So what's this thing gonna be about?"

I bite my lip, considering. "I don't know. It has to be our own made up world, with us as the main characters. I was thinking that maybe we could do something that is in the real world, just the more secretive side of it. Government and stuff." I look at Fang, studying his expression and waiting for a reaction.

He furrows his brows, obviously taking in what I just said. He looks over at me, his expression somewhat interested. "Sounds good. It could relate to science, mutations," he said. "I don't know. Feels right."

I nod. The idea sounds great. I brainstorm a little further. "And we have to be the main characters. I say that we are the people being tested on and mutated."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

* * *

The cafe was somewhat fun; We ordered coffee and brainstormed about our story. We still can't figure out what the mutation will be; all we know is that we'll be the ones being mutated, and we escape. On Saturday, I'm going over to Fang's house so we can figure it out.

It's Friday, so I feel some elation when I walk into my first period English. Teacher Lady passes out a worksheet on clauses and stuff. Basic middle school knowledge; I finish it at least ten minutes.

Since we've already learned this stuff, everyone is done soon. She sighs. "You guys can go ahead and brainstorm for your project with your partner." She looked back down at her papers, making marks on the tests.

Before I can move, Fang is moving his desk next to mine, the legs of the table and chair scraping on the floor and making an unpleasant, shrill sound. I wince, waiting for him to get situated. He puts his elbows on the desk, looking at me. "We still need to figure out a mutation," he says, tapping his finger on the desk.

I nod. "I have some ideas," I say, getting out my spiral notebook that I have officially dedicated to this project. Opening the book, I flip to our brainstorm page, where I have jotted down some random ideas. "I think that if we did-"

"Have you ever thought about flying?"

I look at Fang, startled at the random outburst. "What?"

He sighs. " I think that the mutation should be that we were given the ability to fly. Then, we can fly as well as fight the bad people."

I nod, considering the idea. I click my pen, jotting it down under the list of mutations. "Where did you get this idea from?" I ask, putting down my pen.

He shrugs. "I dunno. Dream, something like that." He bows he head, and I see a bashful smile. "I think it would be cool."

I allow a small smile, nodding. "Okay, we'll do it. We are given... wings," I say, branching it off from the original mutation on my paper. "And we're escaping evil scientists. The classic ones, in the weird white coats," I say, branching off yet again.

Fang looks up. "I think we have a plan for our story."

* * *

Walking home sucks sometimes. Random people will come up to me and push me over, hit me, or simply taunt me. I try to not let it get to me, but it's really annoying.

Now, as I drag my feet on the old and cracked sidewalk that leads to my house, I have been shoved at least three times, called names around seven. I sigh, kicking a stone.

Another kid comes up to me, one I don't even know, and shoves into me. "Hey, little slut. Wanna come back to my place?" He almost spits the request, and some saliva lands on my face.

I huff and walk around him, not bothering to see if he follows me or not. This is a regular occurrence.

When I get home, I head into the kitchen and smile. "Hey, Ella," I say, going to the pantry for some homework food.

Ella smiles and waves to me, a huge cookie shoved into her mouth. She swallows it, and regains her senses. "Hey, Max. I gotta jet, Miley is having a study session at her place."

I nod and smile. "Okay, I'll tell mom when she gets home," I say, going over and kissing my little sister on the cheek. "Be careful," I say as she gathers her math books.

"Sure," she says, her dark brown eyes sparkling. Ella is literally the prettiest girl I know, even for an eighth grader. She's thin and petite, with tanned, hispanic skin, glossy black hair, and huge brown eyes. In comparison, my pale skin and brownish hair are less than average. The only thing we share is our eyes, though mine lack that certain shine and joy.

She hugs me goodbye and leaves, gently shutting the door behind her. I grab some cookies and milk and situate myself at the table, pulling out my math assignment.

About an hour later, mom comes home from work. Mom is a vet, and owns her own tiny animal clinic. She is a perfect replica of Ella; tanned skin and dark hair with eyes to match. I smile when she comes through the door. "Hey, mom," I say, closing up my binder. "How was work?"

She laughs, rubbing her temples. "Hey, honey. It was exhausting; that stupid little chihuahua wouldn't shut up," she said, leaning her elbows on the counter. I laugh; she has had the same little chihuahua coming in for the past month for kennel cough that just didn't seem to go away.

I put my papers and books into my bag, hefting it up onto my shoulders. Before I head up the stairs, I hear my mom's voice. "How was school?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating lying to her. "Fine, boring," I say, forcing a laugh.

I can hear the smile in her voice as I head up the stairs. "Love you!"

I grin. "Love you too, mom."

I go into my room, shutting and locking the door behind me and dropping my bag onto the floor.

I open up my macbook, going on safari, then to facebook. I scroll down my feed, liking some pictures and laughing at a few statuses. Then I come across one of _Lissa's_ posts.

_Ugh. Some people really annoy me. Especially the people who put my boyfriends in jail. -cough- Max -cough- - feeling mad._

43 people liked it, and 15 have commented on it. It's safe to say that none of it was all that nice.

I cough, trying to hide a sob.

Next I go onto Tumblr and Twitter. All of it is blown up with people telling me to fuck off, kill myself, go fuck another guy, etc. After awhile, it all becomes to much for me. I slam my laptop shut, breathing heavily.

I collapse onto my pillow, heaving out sobs. Why does everyone hate me?

After awhile, when my wracking sobs have subsided to nothing but sniffles, I sit up and wipe my eyes with my arm. Sighing, I kick off my jeans and crawl under the covers, still sniffing.

I take out my phone and scroll through the countless messages, coming across one that actually isn't abuse. It's from Fang.

_Hey. I found out a new thing for the story, wanna meet at the same coffee shop tomorrow? _

I reply immediately.

_Of course._

Almost two minutes after I send it, I get a reply.

_Okay. Two o'clock. _After that one arrives, another one comes into my inbox. I open it, and the words made me feel at least ten times better. _And I read Lissa's post. All I have to say is she's a bitch._

* * *

**Woo c: I actually updated faster. Wowza.**

**The rest of the flock will come in in later chappies c:**

**Keep reviewing my minions.**

**-oxox Maddy**


	6. Chapter 6

**I laugh when people ask me out on the internet but yet I feel so special. Ya feel me?**

**Haha, I knew nothing about him so I said no.**

**But anyways. **

**Wowza guys c: I woke up with so many reviews and it made my heart melt c: **

**And all the follows and favorites and sigh.  
**

**Haha, I just came home from helping at a horsie birthday party. All of the people were french and I couldn't understand a word they said.**

**Splendid.**

* * *

Max POV

At noon, I'm hardly awake. It's actually quite an early wake up time for me on weekends, but since I had a meet up with Fang, I at least had to shower. For his sake and anyone else in the cafe.

By the time I'm showered and dressed, it's about one. I throw my wet hair up into a sloppy ponytail and throw on some sneakers. Grabbing my laptop bag, I call a quick good-bye to my mother as I head out the front door.

I settle for taking the bus, even though the cafe is only about seven miles. I could have easily walked the distance, but I was tripped countless times yesterday and standing for more than a few minutes is a struggle all on its own.

I wait at the designated bench until the bus arrives, five minutes late. I stand and climb the stairs onto the vehicle, handing the driver a dollar fifty for his service and take a seat in the back. I pointedly look out the window to avoid conversation with anyone else on the bus.

I settle for being dropped about two minutes away from the cafe, limping through the front entrance. A tiny bell jingles, signifying my arrival. I limp to a booth and pull out my laptop, connecting to the free wifi.

Clicking on my normal Safari browser, it opens up to my normal start page. I start searching genetic mutations, writing down anything that caught my eye.  
While cringing at a listed mutation of having four extra anuses, Fang bursts through the door, making the tiny bell fall off his string. Alarmed, I turn my head to look at him. "What was that for? You murdered that poor bell."

He runs over to my table. "Har har. We need to get out. Lissa is practically chasing me down the block so she can put her number in my phone."

He sighs at the disbelief on my face. "I will force you if I have to. It would not be in anyone's best interest to have a meetup with Lissa." He offers his hand expectantly, raising his eyebrows.

I sigh and take his hand, letting him haul me to my feet as I sling my computer bag over my shoulder. "I warn you, I have a bad leg today."

"I'll work with it."

Fang wasn't lying; when we exited the shop at a jog, Lissa was just rounding the corner, scuttling in her stilettos, calling for Fang. "Shit," he says, pulling me into a run.

It goes on like this for maybe fifteen minutes; us running and Lissa following. Honestly, it was kinda fun. Although I knew if I came face to face with her I would have a broken nose.

Finally, we take refuge in a tiny little coffee shop, very easy to overlook. Panting, I plop in a booth seat and laugh. "That was interesting. You really must not like her."

Fang lets out a breathy laugh. "You've got that right. I would have changed my number if she put hers in my phone."

We laugh, and for a moment I enjoy the moment, indulging myself in the jokes and smiles.

For the next few hours, we search and list genetic mutations. Eventually we come up with giving our characters wings. We both agreed that it was simple yet awesome.

He walked me home, and said that he would see me at school. And I think that Fang became my friend.

* * *

At school on Monday, the people seemed worse. I guess Lissa did see me with Fang, after all. Maybe that's why the word 'slut' was scrawled across the surface of my locker. Luckily it was Expo marker and rubbed off easily. It still stung, though.

In first period, we were actually given some in-class time to work on our stories. Since Fang and I had already scheduled another meet-up, we drifted on to other topics.

"Wanna sit at my table at lunch? I never see you in the cafeteria," Fang says, putting an elbow on his desk.

I nod. "I usually eat in the library. Less people." I tilt my head, considering his question. "Who do you sit with?"

"James and Monique, and sometimes Sam comes to sit with us."

I grimace when he says Sam. "Sam has had a strange obsession with me since the eighth grade."

Fang chuckles. "I've noticed. Everyone has."

Despite Sam, I accept Fang's offer and find myself sitting at a table at the far side of the cafeteria during lunch instead of in the library. The noise is unsettling in comparison to the nice, cozy library. Fang plops his lunch tray the the seat across from mine, his two friends following. Luckily, I haven't seen Sam yet.

"Max, this is James, or Iggy," Fang says, gesturing to the tall boy who just sat beside Fang. "And this is Monique, or Nudge." He points at the dark skinned girl who took the seat next to mine. I was about to ask about the nickname thing going on, but was interrupted.

"Hi, Max! I'm Monique but I really really hate that name so you can call me Nudge! And you're probably wondering why I have such a weird nickname but it honestly has a perfectly normal story behind it. I mean I don't remember it too well because my mom gave it to me when I was a baby but still! And-"

Her babbling was cut off by Iggy's hand over her mouth. "Sorry," he said. He gave Nudge a look. "She doesn't quite know how to finish off a greeting. Or any kind of communication."

Nudge glared and pulled his hand off of her mouth. "I don't talk _that_ much."

Fang snorts, which makes Nudge blush. "I mean, I guess I can be a little noisy, but really it's no big deal because I try to make conversation. Unlike Fang," she says, shoveling potatoes into her mouth.

Iggy laughs in consent. "Fang is a man of many words. By many I mean about four or five a sentence."

At this, I actually laugh, because Fang really doesn't talk a lot. Iggy sticks out his tongue at Fang, who glares.

After lunch, I go to empty my lunch tray and accidentally bump into someone, getting some mashed potatoes on their shirt. I fall, pushed back by the impact of bumping into them. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry," I say, standing. I look at the person I bumped into and realize with dread who the person was.

Lissa.

"Shit," I say, watching her disbelievingly pluck a glob of mashed potato off her shirt. "I paid fifty dollars for this shirt." Her voice is deathly calm, and I notice the lunch room has become silent. I say nothing.

She slowly stands, easily towering over me with her combination of long legs and heels. "Fifty dollars, wasted, ruined by a bitch and some potato." It's then that she slaps me, and the lingering pain suggests that she probably clawed me, too.

I stumble back and hold my cheek. Lissa had already slapped me once before, but that was nothing compared to the deep pain of the claw marks in my cheek. Lissa advances and grabs hold onto my shoulders, shoving me to the ground and efficiently kicking me with the heel of her stilettos. It hurt.

Out of nothing but self defense, I grab her foot and give it a tug, making her lose her balance and fall to the floor beside me. Taking advantage of her moment of weakness, I stand and do what even I would never expect myself to do.

I walked away.

I passed the gaping students, shoved past the teachers trying to get to the scene. I just needed to get out.

I push through some side doors and set out, past the parking lot, past the road, and onto a trail in the bordering forest. As an extra precaution that I won't be found, I scale a tree, settling myself in a fork close to the trunk.

Finally, I let myself cry.

* * *

**Sorry that this is shorter. I felt like I should give you guys something to work with since I haven't posted in awhile.  
**

**This was somewhat a filler, but a somewhat interesting one, I guess. **

**Question of the Day:**

**What do you think of gay rights?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Nothing much left to say so on with the story.**

* * *

Max POV

It's been about an hour since I climbed down from the tree and I don't think I'll be going home anytime soon. My school undoubtedly contacted my mother, who would know about the fight. And I wasn't in the mood for being grounded. So I stayed away from the house.

I ended up at a small park on the edge of town. Not many people come here anymore, but you'll see the occasional person walk by, their head turned towards the pavement, their steps fast-paces and urgent. I usually find myself wondering what exactly these people need to get to so quickly.

I sit myself down at an old park bench, sagging from years of use. It's a damp, musty old thing.

I love it as soon as I sit on it.

About an hour from me finding the bench, a woman with a half-shaved head and tattoos sits next to me, pulling a drag from her cigarette.

I squint through the smoke emitting from her mouth and nostrils to get a clear look at her face. She seems to be in her early twenties, though her eyes shone with wisdom of an eighty year old man. Life does these things to some people, I guess.

I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was a spur of the moment type of thing, maybe I needed release. But I found the words crashing out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Can I have a cigarette?"

The woman looks at me, her eyes narrowed. I imagine what I look like to her; a young girl, barely past sixteen, with scared brown eyes and messy brown hair. Not to mention the claw marks on my cheek. But she sighs and grabs a pack from her back pocket and instead of just giving me one, she gives me the whole pack and a green lighter. Before I can say anything, she stands and walks away.

I shrug off the woman and, before I can change my mind, I flip open the pack and now I'm smoking. I don't cough, I've smoked a few times before. Instead, the pull of smoke and the rush of it leaving my lips makes me feel calm, and I clear my head for a moment. I need to go home but I don't want to face a certain grounding from my mother. I decide to stay on the bench and watch the stars, lighting a new cigarette as soon as the old one burns out. After about four I close the pack and put it in my back pocket to save for later.

Sighing, I tilt my head back and count the stars. One, two, five, seven, twenty two. I lose my count several times and just give up, leaving myself to stare at the stars so far away.

* * *

When I get home, my mother is asleep, but my sister is typing away on her Macbook. When I open the door, she jumps up upon seeing my cut face. "Oh, Max, what happened?"

I sigh. "Surprised that the news didn't spread to the junior high. Lissa kinda slapped me."

Ella gasps and leads me to the kitchen, sitting me down on one of the stools. She goes to the sink, mumbling about the stupidity of my ex-best friend. She comes back with a damp cloth and dabs it to the cut, wincing as I cringe from the stinging of the water.

Five excruciating minutes later, my wound is cleaned and bandaged. It makes speaking awkward since it pulls up a little bit of my lip, but I don't really have anything to say. Having an excuse to stay silent calmed me.

Soon Ella went up to her room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I curl up in the corner of the couch, burrowing myself into the cushions. I sigh again, and this time a tear escapes and catches on the bandage. I wipe it away, cursing myself for crying again. I begin to replay the days events in my head.

Lunch with Fang and his friends. Lissa slapping me. Me running to the woods, sobbing my eyes out. The gift from the tattooed stranger. Watching the stars. Coming home. All in all, nothing seems all that eventful.

But I knew, crying in the living room, that this would be my downfall.

* * *

**Hallo. So uh, this chapter is a bit short. I hate to keep you guys waiting. This chapter kicks off Max's depression, a head's up for you guys.**

**Question of the day:**

**Favorite MR character?**


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